


Stitches

by Marasa



Series: Dynamic Stretching [3]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Josh creates, Lust, M/M, Occult, Spooky, Stitches, Therefore, Undead, amateur surgery, resurrected, stitching kink, tyler exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:10:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: It's heaven in the hands of his creator.





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at writing something actually spooky for the month of October. Enjoy.

Stitches tight.

Mouth open.

Mind blissed.

“You gotta stop doing this.”

Tyler sits cross-legged on the bathroom counter. He leans forward so his forehead is pressed against the dirty mirror. 

Josh’s hands trail down his back, over his soft skin and bumps of his stiff bones. The tips of his fingers dip into the broken seam of stitches that connects his torso to his waist.

Tyler groans.

The point of the large needle burns as Josh forces it through his skin. The pull of the thick surgical thread is blistering as it connects his lower half to his top half once again.

Tyler's half-hard in his jeans.

“This?” Tyler says. 

Name it, say it. Be specific.

“Reckless.” Josh isn't specific. “Messy.”

The man with insufficient words tugs at the thread until the stitches are tight enough that they’re bruising sickly skin, tiny rips forming in the once deceased tissue. 

It makes it hard to move. It makes Tyler's body sore. It makes him lick at the mirror with a flat tongue just because he's feeling so euphorically frustrated.

“I'm gonna pop all these again,” Tyler gasps, drooling. 

“You better not,” Josh growls, shooting his reflection a deadly glance.

“I’m gonna. I will.” His oily forehead smudges the mirror. “I fuckin’ promise you.”

Josh looks ready to say something else but he shuts his mouth, scowling as he ties Tyler’s decaying body back together. 

The tip of Tyler’s finger hooks into a loose stitch on his chest while Josh is occupied behind him. He tugs experimentally. He whines. 

Tyler rips it out. Threads bust, skin shreds. Blood splatters the mirror like a Pollock painting.

He's so fucking close.

“Tyler,” Josh spits in obvious fury bubbling just under his quiet demeanor. 

He says his fingers cramp up from stitching him so often. Tyler doesn't give a fuck.

He looks back at his reflection through the spray of blood. He's pale, eyes half-lidded in lust and pus seeping from the sewn junctions of his body.

He used to not feel anything. Now he feels so much.

It's heaven in the hands of his creator.

Tyler licks the mirror again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always taking prompts


End file.
